


A Fever-Fit of Animal Desire

by downlookingup



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 00:35:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14320587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downlookingup/pseuds/downlookingup
Summary: Brienne confesses a fantasy to Jaime.





	A Fever-Fit of Animal Desire

**Author's Note:**

> I was reading James Joyce's love letters to his wife and this happened. [Here's a link](https://www.buzzfeed.com/alexnaidus/the-dirtiest-excerpts-from-james-joyces-letters?utm_term=.aozEWYkPm#.oymLKQ0xR). They're hilarious (maybe hilariously bad) but weirdly hot in places? IDK!

Brienne's laptop dies on Wednesday, sometime between leaving the Grand Pyke Hotel (little more than an inn, to be quite honest) at the crack of dawn—because Balon Greyjoy, who smells like curdled milk and moldy tobacco, hates her design for his company's new logo and refuses to continue paying her hotel bill—and arriving at The Crag after the most nauseating ferry ride she's ever taken. She only realizes the computer's done for when she takes it out on the train to Lannisport to rework the design. Luckily, all her work is stored on the cloud, but it will put a crimp on her schedule until she sorts out the repairs.

When she gets home, the house is empty. She calls Jaime while she undresses. "Where are you?"

"Supermarket. I'm making you a 'welcome home' dinner tonight."

"Jaime, I was only gone for a week."

"That's about five days too many."

Brienne rolls her eyes at his dramatics, but she's touched. She missed him terribly too. The cell phone reception on Pyke was awful, and calls to Lannisport were long-distance and too expensive for that cheapskate Greyjoy. They only saw each other via webcam for a few minutes before the wifi decided to stop working as well.

"Listen, can I borrow your laptop? Mine is having issues."

"Sure. It's on the sofa."

After hanging up, she flops onto the sofa to read and answer emails. Jaime's computer is smaller and the keys are closer together than they are in her own laptop, and somehow, instead of opening a new tab, she opens the browsing history, and she sees the last tab he closed yesterday.

With a gasp, she slams the computer closed. " _Oh my gods._ "

* * *

Brienne finally mentions it late Friday night. They've been sitting on the couch, watching the same baseball game, for five hours—the score has been 0-0 for fifteen innings—and she can't concentrate anymore. He's next to her and he still smells so good from the cologne he put on this morning, and she knows she's red as a beet and her heart is racing and her hands are shaking, but she _needs to know_.

"J—Jaime?"

"Hmm?" His eyes never waver from the screen. One of the Lannisport players strikes out and Jaime shouts, "Fuck!"

"I... um... need to ask you something."

That gets his attention, but having his green eyes focused on her doesn't make speaking any easier. He frowns. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. Just." Brienne takes a deep breath. _Just come out with it._ "Are you... satisfied?"

"Satisfied?"

Her cheeks tingle with embarrassment. "I mean, with our..." She lowers her voice, "... _sex life?_ "

Jaime pauses for a moment before he bursts out laughing. "What the hell are you talking about? Of course I am. Are _you?_ "

She nods firmly. "Of course."

He smiles at her like it's the silliest conversation they've ever had. "Well... good." He turns back to the game.

It's strange. She doesn't feel _relief_ , exactly. There's always a little voice in the back of her head telling her that there's no way he could possibly be happy with their relationship, with touching her the way he does and letting her touch him in return. But watching his face when they're together, hearing him come undone when she takes him in her mouth or watching him bury his face between her legs and stay there until she's satisfied and numb—all of that is enough to assure her that what they have going is real. She's not exactly relieved by his reassurances because she never really needed them in the first place.

What she _does_ feel is a frisson of benign disappointment. At least if he'd said no, it would have given her an opening, an excuse. Brienne squeezes her legs tight. She can't stop thinking about that thrice-damned video. She doesn't know why she found it so compelling anyway. Brienne is the type of woman who almost freezes with embarrassment at the thought of talking to a client over the phone or in person rather than by email. It was part of the reason why her trip to visit the Grand Pyke Hotel had been so terrible—she simply lacked the charisma to get along with a stranger with whom she had nothing in common. But for whatever reason, what the couple in the video had been doing sparked something visceral in her. The thought of doing _that_ with Jaime makes her dizzy with lust.

Brienne tries to focus on the game—it's 1-1 at the top of the seventeenth—but she's keenly aware of Jaime watching her.

" _What?_ " she snaps.

"What made you ask that?"

Her face burns anew. "Nothing. Forget it."

Jaime scoots closer to her on the couch until she's pressed against the armrest and he's half-laying on her. He's looking at her with that smirk that means he's thinking about all kinds of naughty things. He puts his hand on her thigh and rubs circles into her jeans. "Tell me," he says.

"No..."

He nuzzles her neck, nibbling at her earlobe. "Come on..." His hand moves higher and higher until it's just a hair away from where she wants him.

Brienne tangles a hand in his golden hair to keep him in place, because it's better like this when he's not looking at her, when he's kissing her. This way she can be brave. "You know how you lent me your laptop the other day?" He hums in acknowledgement against her skin, licks her collarbone. She stifles a groan. "Well... I... may have seen your browsing history."

He sighs. "Brienne..."

She grimaces and her words come out in a nervous jumble. "I'm so sorry. I swear I wasn't snooping or anything. I was just trying to find a tab I closed earlier and I saw..."

He pulls away to look at her, and she sees he's holding back a smile. "You saw porn."

She nods, grimly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to invade your privacy."

He gives her a kiss that makes her toes curl. "I'm not embarrassed. You were in Pyke, I was bored, and I missed you."

"But—but you liked it? It turned you on?"

"Yeah, but I'd rather have the real thing," he says, and finally, he touches here where she was aching to be touched. His thumb draws circles on the fabric stretched over her clit, sending tendrils of electricity all over her body. He muffles her groans with his mouth, his tongue sweeping against hers almost frantically.

She will never stop being surprised by how well he knows her body. Even the first time, every touch, every movement had been a revelation. She hadn't known—not with Hyle and certainly not with Ron—how good sex could be until she slept with Jaime.

He kneads her breast over her shirt, pinches her tight nipple until the pain is _just right_ , while rubbing her through her pants. Knowing that whatever they do together will feel good for both of them gives her the strength to continue.

"But what you were watching," she said, "a man... having sex with a woman on a bus... is that something you'd like to _do?_ "

Jaime's hand stills. His back swells as he takes a deep breath. He's serious when he looks at her. "What are you saying?"

"I—I don't—"

"Are you saying _you'd_ like to try that?"

Brienne's heart is hammering in her chest. _Gods, this is really happening._ "M—maybe?" He frowns at her evasion. "If—if you would like to, I'd be... _willing_... to try."

"Are you saying that to avoid hurting my feelings or are you being coy about wanting to get fucked in public?"

She sucks in a breath. It sounds so dirty when he says it. "The, um... the second one."

The primal growl that erupts from his throat startles her. He grabs her hips, tugs her down until she's lying flat on the couch, and falls over her, his erection pressing against her core. The feeling is electrifying. "Seven fucking hells," he grunts, and claims her mouth.

She raises her hips to meet his, longing for a firmer touch, and he gets the message. In the blink of an eye, he's pulling off her jeans and pushing down his own until his beautiful, thick cock is out, the swollen tip glistening with lubrication. He palms it roughly as his eyes roam over her body. He looks like a wild animal, a bloodthirsty lion, that has just caught sight of a particularly delectable prey.

" _Brienne_." He says her name like he wants to eat her, pushing up up her tank top until her chest is bared. "You want to get fucked in front of other people?" He leans down to suck a breast into his mouth, his teeth worrying the puckered nipple, and she moans.

"Not exactly," she gasps. "Just where someone... _gods, Jaime_... could find us."

"And what are you going to do for me?" He spreads her thighs wide, kneading handfuls of her flesh. His cock slides between the lips of her cunt, the the tip pushing up against her clit, and they both gasp.

Later, she'll let herself wonder how she could say these things out loud and not die of shame. "I'll suck your cock while you fuck me with your fingers," she says.

Brienne pictures it in her mind. They will be on a night train to somewhere, the lights out throughout the car, but Brienne will slip her head under the blanket on their laps and she'll pull out his beautiful cock, and she'll take him in her mouth, with the noises of strangers around them. She'll wrap her lips around the spongy head, and Jaime will reach between her legs and slip his long, slender fingers inside the wet mess of her cunt. She'll come with his cock in her mouth, feeling like a brazen tart, and she won't care.

The real Jaime rocks his hips, his hard-soft flesh gliding against her. She can't believe how wet she is. It feels amazing, but it's not enough. "Inside, Jaime. _Please_."

"What do you want?"

"Your cock."

"My cock," he agrees, taking it in his hand and positioning it against her opening. "My cock in your cunt." He surges forward, stretching her tender flesh over his thickness until he's buried in her to the hilt.

" _Gods_." She wraps her legs around his waist. He holds her arms above her head as he draws back and pushes in again, hitting that spot that takes the air out of her lungs. He's setting a steady pace now, pulling back just enough to hit the same spot over and over. It feels like heaven.

"You want to wrap your pretty little lips around my cock and suck me dry where everyone can see us?"

" _Yes._ " Brienne arches against him to meet his thrusts.

"And then?"

"Then," she pants, "fuck me." Jaime answers with a moan and a quicker snapping of his hips.

They would try to do it in their seats, Brienne sitting on Jaime's lap, riding his cock fast and hard and trying not to make any noise. Someone would come down the aisle, and they would have to scramble to cover themselves up. Then, they would run to the cramped restroom, Brienne would lean over the sink, and Jaime would thrust into her from behind, slamming into her with a fury.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" the real Jaime says.

"Tell you what?"

"That you were such a filthy slut."

" _Jaime_."

She arches against him to meet his thrusts. They are perfectly synchronized, like two musicians performing an old duet. The familiarity doesn't make it boring; instead, there's the thrill of hitting every note at exactly the right time.

Jaime kneels on the couch, grabs her bottom, and plunges deeper, faster, harder inside her. The wet sounds they're making are absolutely obscene; they echo in the living room, driving her closer and closer to the brink.

"Seven hells, you're amazing," he groans. _How can he speak?_ The words are scrambled in her head, her thoughts reduced to _want_ and _need._ A minute more of this and the pressure she's been holding back all this time will burst from her like a bomb.

He leans down to kiss her, slow and sensuously, and it makes her heat beat even faster. "You really want that?"

"Yes, I do. Jaime, _please_."

Jaime's hand comes up to rest on her mound and his thumb strokes the bundle of nerves at the top of her slit, and she's aware of her mouth gaping open like a fish's, but she can hardly breathe. The current that runs between them and through her lifts her _up up up_ until it explodes, blinding her, and she can only call his name while her cunt pulses around his hardness. She feels him follow her a moment later, his cock throbbing inside her as it fills her with the evidence of his peaking.

Then they slump against each other, sweating, panting, boneless, sated.

"The seven help me, that was..."

Brienne laughs, breathlessly. "I know." She looks toward the TV. The news is playing. "The game's over," she says. "I wonder who won."

Jaime kisses her deeply. "We did."

* * *

Later, after they shower and get ready for bed, while they are lying in bed with the lights out waiting for sleep to come, Brienne wraps an arm around Jaime's waist and speaks into his ear.

"I meant it, you know. What we... _talked_... about."

He turns on the lamp and pulls back to look at her in the light. "Brienne—"

"Only if you're into it," she amends quickly.

" _I'm_ into it, I just don't want to push you into doing something you don't want to do."

"I _want_ to do it." She's blushing again, but she thinks it's less than before.

He sits in silence for a while, staring down at their joined hands, and Brienne waits, her stomach twisted into a knot, hoping. He said he was into it, he _seemed_ into it while they were on the couch, but there is a big difference between thinking about a fantasy and making it a reality. She hates herself for thinking it, but she knows the septas from her school would be so appalled. Maybe she should tell Jaime to forget it, and go to the sept in the morning and speak to the septon.

Except she doesn't _want_ to do that. She couldn't care less what an unwed septon thinks about her marriage. She only cares about what Jaime thinks, and he wouldn't think she was sinful or worthless or disgusting... would he?

"When do you want to do it?"

Brienne lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding and grins. "It doesn't have to be right away."

He nods. "Okay, we'll do it. Soon."

"Soon."

Jaime shuts off the light and they huddle together in the dark. He drops a kiss on the top of her head. "Love you."

"Love you back."

"Seven hells, you were so fucking sexy tonight."

"Shut up. So were you. Go to sleep."

He pitches his voice higher. "You were all, ' _Please let me suck your cock in public, Jaime_.'"

She swats at his chest. " _Sleep._ "

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment, maybe?


End file.
